


falling asleep on a stranger

by softirwin



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: IM A SINNER IM SORRY, ITS BEEN SO LOGN, M/M, but now im back, whos hyped, with eevn worse fics than ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4173504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softirwin/pseuds/softirwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it is, his bus is running late today and Calum had run all the way to the bus stop from his house (a good two minutes of exercise, at least, which means he’s breathless and almost breaking a sweat by the time he reaches the bus stop) because he’d thought he was late. When he realises, however, that he could have had an extra ten minutes and actually eaten some breakfast, he groans, lets his eyes flutter shut and mutters “fuck <em>me</em>”.</p><p>“Excuse me?” a surprised voice says, and Calum opens his eyes so fast he thinks he might have accidentally blinded himself. Standing to his left, an amused look on his face, is a boy with fluffy-looking blue hair (<em>blue</em>). </p>
            </blockquote>





	falling asleep on a stranger

**Author's Note:**

> ITS BEEN SO LONG IM SO SORRY school literally hates me how have you BEEN 
> 
> also im sorry in advance for this fic but having not written in a long time my writing's kind of gone a bit. Hmm and u know it takes a while to get it back EH who cares 
> 
> i wrote this a few days ago for my friend kiera because it was her BIRTHDAY and i posted it on tumblr but i lengthened it a little becuse banter is flexible so . Lets see how it goes

It’s not like it’s something Calum  _thinks_ about.

Maybe he should think about it, really. There are probably hundreds of innocent children who have heard Calum mutter ‘fuck me’ under his breath when his phone resets, or when the bus is running late, or when he walks into a bush whilst texting and have turned to their parents and asked, “Mummy, what does ‘fuck me’ mean? That man just said it.”.

Yeah.  _Definitely_ something Calum should think about.

As it is, his bus is running late today and Calum had run all the way to the bus stop from his house (a good two minutes of exercise, at least, which means he’s breathless and almost breaking a sweat by the time he reaches the bus stop) because he’d thought he was late. When he realises, however, that he could have had an extra ten minutes and actually eaten some breakfast, he groans, lets his eyes flutter shut and mutters “fuck  _me_ ”.

“Excuse me?” a surprised voice says, and Calum opens his eyes so fast he thinks he might have accidentally blinded himself. Standing to his left, an amused look on his face, is a boy with fluffy-looking blue hair ( _blue_ ). 

“Sorry,” Calum says quickly. “I, uh. Just. Bus is late.” 

“And that means you want to get fucked?” Calum can  _feel_ himself blushing, wills it to stop, but he’s pretty sure the other boy’s noticed from the way his amused look turns into a mischievous smirk. 

“Well,” Calum says. “I mean, I. No. Well, yes. Not, like, because of the bus. But I do want to get fucked.” He blanches (at least the blushing’s sorted out), realising what he’d just said to a _complete stranger_ “What the fuck? No I don’t.” He pauses, before exhaling heavily. “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

“Oh,” the guy says, full-on grinning now. “That’s nice to know.” 

“Yeah,” Calum mumbles, wishing the blue-haired guy’s eyes weren’t so pretty because really, Calum is _not_ equipped to deal with those at seven thirty in the morning. Calum’s not equipped to deal with _anything_ at seven thirty in the morning, as this conversation shows.

“Anyway,” the stranger says, stepping forward, and when the hell did the 108 even pull up? Calum’s been too mortified to notice. “This is my bus. Hope you get laid soon, bro.” 

“Thanks,” Calum mutters as the guy gets on the bus, wishing he had some kind of superpower that enabled him to fade away into a void whenever he pleased. 

-

The guy’s not at the bus stop the next day, or the next, or the next, and Calum stops walking to the bus stop with an accelerated heartbeat (although that might just be from the walking - any exercise is a struggle) and relaxes again. He can’t say he’s not a little disappointed, though, because even though the guy had just made fun of Calum for like, three minutes straight, he’d been kind of (exceptionally) hot, with his bright, greenish eyes, vividly blue hair and his pretty little smile.

Calum’s on his way home from the bus stop, whistling as he ambles down the road texting his roommate Luke and asking him to pick up some chocolate on his way home (no reason, Calum just likes chocolate and doesn’t like paying for things) when his phone slips out of his fingers and he hears the unmistakeable cracking sound of an iPhone screen and a pavement having a disagreement.

“Oh,  _shit_ ,” he mumbles to himself, bending down and picking his phone up. Sure enough, the screen’s shattered in the top left-hand corner. “Fuck me, oh my god.” 

“Not again,” a voice says, and Calum looks up to see the stranger from the bus stop grinning down at him. He stands up so fast that he feels dizzy and almost has to sit down again, and upon regaining control of his vision he scowls at the stranger. 

“Listen,” he says, sounding petulant even to his own ears. “My phone’s just cracked. This is no time for jokes about my sex life.” 

“Oh, shit,” the boy says, looking genuinely concerned. “Does it still work?” Calum presses the home button and types in his passcode, and it all works. Thank  _God_. He doesn’t have enough money to pay for repairing it. 

“Still,” Calum says grumpily. “I don’t want a cracked phone screen.” 

“We all have to make sacrifices,” the stranger says. “Anyway, I think a good fuck is what you need after such a tragic misfortune.” 

“Very funny,” Calum mutters, and the stranger grins. 

“I thought so too,” he says. “Anyway, I have to go. People to see, stuff to do, all that shit.” 

“You go ahead,” Calum says. “Enjoy the people and the stuff. Stop making jokes about my sex life.”

“Stop asking me to fuck you,” the boy calls over his shoulder as he walks away, and Calum shoves both middle fingers up at him, forgetting that his phone’s in his hand and dropping it again. 

(The boy laughs all the way until he’s turned the corner.)

-

Luke had bought Calum’s chocolate, but not any _other_ groceries, which is the only reason Calum’s out of bed and dressed before midday on a Saturday. He’s standing in the aisles at Tesco, trying to find some weird brand of ketchup that Luke had _specifically requested_ which he was not to return without.

He’s made the mistake of not getting a basket – which, in hindsight, was not a good plan for grocery shopping, but Calum’s barely with it as it is and he thinks it’s enough of an achievement that he managed to navigate his way to the Tesco’s down the road – so he’s balancing what feels like fifty-three items precariously in his arms. He shifts a little down the condiments aisle, doing a weird crab-like walk as he searches through the ketchups for the weird brand.

“Fuck me,” Calum mutters, because every brand is Heinz and he’s pretty sure Luke won’t be able to taste the difference anyway.

“You alright there?” a voice says, and Calum shrieks and drops everything he’s holding right on the floor. A box of eggs cracks, a jar of something smashes and apples bounce in various directions around the aisle.

“…Oops,” the voice says, and Calum looks up from where he’s staring at the sole apple left in his arms to face the culprit. It’s the blue-haired boy, _again_.

“You’re paying for this,” Calum says. The blue-haired boy shrugs.

“Fair enough,” he says, and then, all conversationally; “still not got fucked, then?” Calum scowls.

“It’s none of your business,” he says, getting on his knees to gather up all the things he can salvage. He only realises too late that getting on his knees in front of a pretty guy who’s making jokes about his sex life was probably not the brightest idea he’s ever had, but Calum’s stubborn, so he’s going to see it through.

“That means no,” the guy says. “Shame. You look good on your knees.” Calum flips him off, not even looking at him as he picks up a bag of crisps and a few more apples.

“Do you exist just to make my life a misery?” Calum asks, getting to his feet and wobbling as he struggles to regain his balance holding everything he could pick up. “I feel like I died at some point and entered hell without even realising.” The guy smirks.

“Kinky,” he says, even though Calum’s pretty sure he’s not said anything remotely sexual. Calum hates pretty boys. They fuck with his brain. “Even for someone who wants to be fucked so desperately they announce it in a supermarket, hell-roleplay isn’t something I would have expected.” Calum scowls again.

“Oh, ha, ha, very funny,” he says sarcastically, grabbing the nearest ketchup bottle off the shelf. Luke can have Heinz and if he complains, Calum’s going to shove it up his arse. “I’m going to pay for these now.”

“You do that,” the pretty boy says. Calum glares at him, lingers a second longer than he maybe should have just because pretty boys don’t talk to him very often and he needs to document the rarity, and then makes his way down the aisle to the counter.

(Luke accepts the ketchup with a frightened look on his face when Calum presses it into his hands with a growl.)

-

It’s almost as if Calum’s pissed off Jesus and now God’s taking his revenge, honestly.

He’s just walking home, not even texting in case he actually breaks his phone for good this time, when he trips over the shoelace that he’d been warned by Luke earlier was going to trip him up and falls over, ripping open his favourite jeans at the knee.

“Fuck me,” he whines, pulling himself into a sitting position and picking tiny pieces of gravel out of the graze on his knee. 

“We’ve been over this,” a voice says, and Calum closes his eyes. 

“Do you just, like, selectively show up when I say that?” he asks. The boy grins. 

“I’m the master of good timing,” he says. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”

“Fell over,” Calum mumbles, and the stranger giggles. Then, to Calum’s surprise, he sits down opposite Calum, crossing his legs and looking at Calum with a kind of mischievous yet earnest expression on his face. Calum narrows his eyes, but then opens them again because the stranger is really pretty up close. He only realises retrospectively that it must look like he had some kind of eye spasm. 

“I would,” the stranger says after a moment of silence.

“What?” Calum’s suddenly worried that he missed the beginning of this conversation, because that makes no sense. Is it possible to get short-term amnesia from tripping over your shoelaces? 

“Fuck you. I would.” 

“Thanks, Yoda.” 

“No, seriously,” the pretty boy presses, blinking at Calum. “I’d fuck you. You want to?”

“I’m not  _that_  easy,” Calum frowns, but he’s not sure anymore. The boy really  _is_ pretty, and Calum really  _is_ easy. And desperate. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Michael,” the boy says. “You?”

“Calum,” Calum says. 

“Pretty name,” Michael says. “Suits you.” 

“Did you just call me pretty?” Calum asks suspiciously. Michael grins.

“Maybe.” He stands up, brushing the dirt off his arse, and holds out his hand for Calum to hoist himself up with. Calum does, because he has absolutely no dignity, and he brushes himself down too. The graze isn’t even painful, and he’s completely forgotten about his jeans.

“So. Fuck you. Is that happening?”

“Can we at least like, have dinner or something first?” Calum asks. Michael grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Calum’s tempted to get back down on the pavement, onto his grazed knees, and suck Michael’s dick right there in the middle of the street. 

“Yeah,” he says, quieter than before, and somehow it sounds soft and earnest and Calum wants to hear that repeated for the rest of his  _life_. “I’d like that.”

“ _Then_ you fuck me.”

“ _Then_ I’ll fuck you,” Michael agrees. Calum blinks. It’s so fucking hot to hear him say that. 

(Jesus, Calum  _is_ easy. Who’s he kidding?)

“Okay, maybe dinner later,” Calum says hastily, lacing his fingers together with Michael’s and pulling him in the direction of his and Luke’s flat.

 

**Author's Note:**

> u knwo the drill TALK to me [on tumblr](http://irwinsvibes.tumblr.com)


End file.
